Unprotected
by Don'tWishDon'tStart
Summary: "Skin. That's the first thing she noticed. Soft flesh instead of scratchy patchwork cotton"...Post-musical Fiyeraba. I do not own Wicked.
1. Safe

**As always, I don't own Wicked**

* * *

Skin. That's the first thing she noticed. Soft flesh instead of scratchy patchwork cotton. They were holding hands like they'd done as they fell asleep.

Then she heard the sea; its midnight whispers as it crept up onto the pebbly shore before retreating timidly backwards. It was soothing, the sound that they'd both drifted off to.

Next was the sand (if you could call it that). It was pebbly and rough against her slender frame. This wasn't the beach she had been lying on earlier. Her and him on the tender sand together. Far away from Oz, past the "impassable" dessert. Seeing the coast for the first time.

Safe. Right.

"Fiyero." She croaked, only to be interrupted by a violent fit of coughing. It was only at this point that she realised that she was dripping saltwater, her dress heavy, and hair hanging limply in wet waves down to her waist.

Her throat was dry with salt and a pain rose up her sinuses as she lifted herself carefully to her feet, only to find that her head was playing same painful tricks on her as the rest of her body. She looked down. It was hard to make out his features in the dark, but it was clear that he was asleep; eyes firmly shut, breathing heavy, limbs twitching every now and then in that awful way that they did when he was having nightmares. Seeing him like this was frightening. He was in his old body, the body that she'd last seen when they were together in the forest. She'd seen him sleep then. Back then, only a few months ago, he'd been still and calm, protected from the world around him by his bubble of blissful dreams. But as the scarecrow he was different. Twitching, turning, mumbling. Yet here he was. His body was intact, seeming to have forgotten to show the scars that it ought to...but...

"Hey you!"

Fiyero grumbled, prying his eyes open while Elphaba whipped herself around to see the source of the voice: a man standing at the base of the cliff. She couldn't make out his face, but he was fairly tall with broad shoulders. His voice scraped through the air like gravel.

"Your friend drunk?"

She glanced down at Fiyero. His eyes were open but he made no attempt to get up. Instead he was waving his arms weakly over his face. She could see how someone might think he'd had too much to drink.

"No, he's fine." She snapped, moving herself quickly round to crouch by him.

"Elphaba...Am I...?" He looked at her pleadingly, unable to form the words with his wavering voice. She understood.

"Yes." She smiled.

He returned the smile and lifted his torso off of the ground with a wince.

"How did you-"

"I didn't"

Her reply was much sharper than she'd intended it to be, but she continued anyway in the same tone.

"Fiyero, look where we are."

He glanced around. The pebbles in place of sand, cliffs in place of mountains. His face creased up for a second before relaxing back into his default princely half-smile.

"We're safe." He squeaked.

"Yero...Yero, how can you say that, we don't know where we are, we don't-"

Warmth. Her hand was gripped by his. It felt like it used to.

"We're safe." He repeated. "We're together."


	2. Flashing lights

**Don't forget to review if you have any feedback :)**

 **I do not own Wicked**

* * *

I must have fallen asleep because I woke up with a jolt.

Clicking. Shouting. Flashing lights.

Elphaba had a tight grip on my hand. She was scared, although her face certainly wouldn't give it away. She would make an amazing actress, I always thought. Still, I was starting to crack the enigma that was Elphaba Thropp; noticing the slight flare of her nostrils or twitch of an eye that might give me a brief insight into her mind. Of course, I didn't understand her completely. Not even close. Galinda (back when she was _Ga_ linda) had told me that couples should always know what the other was thinking. I never knew with Elphaba. I just knew that I wanted her to be there for my whole life.

"Alright, back away! No more pictures!"

It was a middle-aged man in fluorescent clothing. He had dark skin and a balding head that shined from the flashes that persisted despite his attempt to make them stop.

"Get the ambulance ready!" He yelled over his shoulder to someone that I couldn't see. I couldn't see much of anything really. Just agonising bursts of light, Elphaba to my side, balding man above me.

He turned to look straight at Elphaba. She looked away.

"Can you understand me?"

"Yes." She mumbled. It was too painful to nod.

"And you?"

It took me a while to realise that he was speaking to me. I was too preoccupied with Elphaba.

"He does." Elphaba answered for me.

I craned my head up to where the man was stood. We were looking eachother straight in the eyes.

"Sorry." I murmured feebly. "I understand."

The other person came over, I think. At least, I know that we were both lifted into the vehicle at the same time, somehow.

The doors shut and then...then...

* * *

"Fiyero!"

I was on a bed. White walls and something beeping. I looked down to see myself exactly as I was before that night in the forest. Old clothes, old body. I thought for a second that maybe all of this had been a dream. That I was still in bed with Glinda in some high-end hotel in Oz. Luckily Elphaba snapped me out of my nightmare by rushing to my side. It was her turn to squeeze my hand. She wore a blue and white gown that somehow didn't make her look any less beautiful. She had an ethereal glow about her.

"You look beautiful"

I knew after I'd said it that she wouldn't like it, but the words had fallen out of my mouth before my brain could catch them.

She laughed- her short half-snorting laugh that I'd heard so much back in Shiz.

"I look ridiculous."

" _You_ look ridiculous?" I had to laugh too.

" _You_ look pale."

Her word were soft, but had a sense of urgency about them that made me too afraid to ask her about anything. It was almost a relief when a woman walked to the foot of the bed. Her features seemed to be set in a permanent scowl. Whether she'd been there the whole time or had just walked in, I wasn't sure.

"Back in your bed." She instructed Elphaba rather sternly. "We have to do more tests..." She bit her bottom lip and fumbled with some papers as her words trailed off. "Besides, he needs rest."

I watched as Elphaba loosened her grip on me and shuffled over to the bed a few feet away. Just too far to hold hands. The scowling woman was still hovering at the end of the bed.

"I'm doctor Michelle Jones. And you are?"

Unsure whether to answer, I looked to my right where Elphaba was perched restlessly on the white covers of her bed. She gave me a nod and a reassuring smile.

"Uh, Fiyero." I stuttered "Fiyero Tiggular."

"The other doctor _did_ ask me this earlier..." Elphaba muttered, prompting Dr Michelle to shoot her a very unprofessional look, before turning back to me.

"You're going to have to spell that for me." Her pen was hovering over some papers secured to a blue plastic clipboard.

Once she'd taken down my name she pondered over her notes for at least five minutes, flipping backwards and forwards between pages, making 'umm's and 'ahh's as she did so. It took me by surprise when she finally spoke again.

"Well you seem healthy...if exhausted. Another doctor will be in to check on you later but the police will be in to speak to you both in a moment."

"Police?" I asked a little too loudly for my dry throat, causing me to cough the end of the word.

Dr Michelle handed me a glass of water that I hadn't noticed was on the table beside my bed. I nodded gratefully and gulped down the entire glass.

"Well there seem to be far more questions than answers about this whole situation at the moment." She gestured to Elphaba with her eyes, which caused an anger to rise up from my stomach. But Elphaba just took a deep intake of breath and asked "When will they be here?"


	3. Questions

**Me no own Wicked :(**

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This was all wrong. All of it.

This wasn't where I was supposed to end up. I suppose I thought that if I'd got there that way, then I could get back the same way. Well, that was wrong. Clearly. Because here I was on a hospital bed in another new world. Another new start.

At least I had my pictures. The balloon didn't come with me but the pictures did. I didn't know how I got here, but I've learnt that sometimes it's better not to ask questions. Sometimes you just have to appreciate what you have and move on in ignorance. What I had at this moment were my pictures. My wonderful wallet of photographs that sat proudly on my bedside desk.

The nurse spotted the brown plastic peeping out of my coat pocket when I first got into hospital (that's the thing about Oz: no leather).

She'd asked me if it was "Personal?"

Personal? This was the last two decades of my life! How much more personal does it get?

* * *

"Who's that?"

It wasn't so much a question, I already knew. I suppose I wanted to know what _they_ knew.

It was our second day in hospital. Fiyero had had a nightmare that first night. I could hear his murmurs in the night, see his limbs jerk and twitch as if they were being shocked. I climbed into his bed. He woke up, and for a second I saw that familiar grin flash on his face. But we had to have a nurse in our room at night (we were an 'unusual case' as they'd put it). So as soon as I climbed in, the night nurse was there to get me out.

They didn't trust me at all. I suppose it was no surprise, and certainly not anything new, but it was infuriating. The policewoman hadn't believed a word I'd said. I'm sure of it. She'd sat there smugly with a condescending look plastered onto her freckled face. But what hurt most was how they didn't trust me with Fiyero. None of them had said it explicitly, but it was obvious: the way they'd always interrupt when I'd speak to him, or the way they'd wince slightly when I touched him.

"You did this to him". They'd whisper with their sideways glares. But Fiyero wasn't hurt. Something _had_ happened to him, but he wasn't hurt. He was tired. Wouldn't you be too if your entire body had somehow been transformed?

I hate to admit it, but I didn't understand how any of this had happened. We'd just fallen asleep. None of this made any sense. Still, he was ecstatic to have his body back, and I needed to be grateful for that. Although, we'd both been relieved when he'd shredded that horrendible uniform in place of a hospital gown.

I despised that uniform. So did he.

And then the next morning one of the nurses happened to be holding a newspaper, for another patient I think. And I saw it. Two photographs printed in vivid colour on the front.

One of us and one of him.

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 **I hope you enjoyed this short lil' update. Please leave a review if you have any feedback :)**


	4. Answers

**Disclaimer: Wicked does not belong to me.**

* * *

The pictures always brought back memories. I hadn't realised how much so until I had the time to look through them properly in that wretched hospital bed. But I didn't have to be in that hospital. No, with one look at a photograph I go back to my past. Back to my fame and power...or earlier, back to Melena.

I'd been pushing her out of my mind for the past few months since I found out about...what I'd done. But I couldn't push her away now. Not when her face was grinning at me from the grainy image in my hands. But the more I looked at it, the more I could see _her_ in Melena's face. Not the skin, of course, but the eyes most definitely; they both had those same warm hazel eyes, the only difference was that Elphaba's were less warm hazel and more blazing brown fire. At least, that's all _I_ saw of them. She would never show me warmth, not after what I'd done to her.

They had the same jawline too- sharp and defined, yet somehow soft. The nose looked like _my_ mother's. I wondered why I'd never seen that before. Maybe I had, maybe I'd ignored the thought like I did everything else. Ignore the guilt. Ignore the pain. Focus on the prize: the power.

* * *

"I'll be blunt" Doctor Michelle began. My body felt heavy with exhaustion. "We're not getting much sense out of any of you at the moment."

I glanced out of the office window, but there was nothing but grey tarmac and grey bricks. Even the sky seemed to be in on the colour scheme, keeping itself hidden behind a layer of melancholy grey clouds.

"We need to know what she's done to you."

"What? Who?"

"The woman. Elpina."

"Elphaba?!" I shrieked.

"Yes. Her." She seemed not to notice my horrorfied tone. That, or she just didn't care (I had my suspicions that it was the latter).

"She wouldn't do anything! Besides, you said yourself: I'm just tired."

"That may be the case Mr Tiglar, but we can't ignore the fact that you couldn't get out of bed for nearly two days."

"Tiggular" I corrected weakly.

I couldn't think of anything else to say. She was right. About me not getting out of bed, that is. I'd only been able to drag myself to my feet the previous evening, and here I was barely able to sit up properly the next day. I wanted to explain properly, but I couldn't. Partly because I didn't know most of the answers myself, but mainly because I knew that Elphaba wouldn't want me to.

Before the police arrived, Elphaba told Michelle that we'd fled our country because we feared for our lives. I was pretty sure that this was a hint that this was the story we would tell the police. So, that's what I did (it wasn't like it was a lie), and I knew that Elphaba had done the same. If we told them any more, we'd almost definetley have to fear for our lives here, too.

"Look, I know that you want to share a room with her, but the nurses and I have all agreed that it would be better for the both of you to get some headspace."

I didn't notice my face change at all, but clearly it did because Doctor Michelle spoke again:

"Don't look so distressed. It's not like you'll never see each other again."

'Although I don't know why you'd ever want to', her tone implied.

"No." I didn't know that the word was leaving my mouth until long after I'd released it into the clinical hospital air.

"Excuse me?"

"No, I've lost her twice already. I'm not letting her go again."

And it wasn't until the grey from the window began to merge with the stark white of the office that I realised I was crying.


	5. Different

**So firstly, I am really sorry for the long break. I kind of lost motivation for a while, but hopefully this will make up for it... Anyway, as always here's the disclaimer:**

 **I don't own Wicked.**

 **And on with the story :)**

* * *

"What did they say?" Elphaba asked once she and Fiyero were alone in the bathroom that evening. The only time that they could speak in private was when they were brushing their teeth.

"They wanted to move us to different rooms."

"Oh?"

"But they're not." The former prince clarified hurriedly.

The air grew thick with the silence that followed, prompting him to speak again. "You know what I think?"

Elphaba didn't answer, instead opting to rinse off her toothbrush. At least the hiss of the water against the sink provided some relief from the otherwise-silence.

"I think this is pointless. We left Oz so that we could live our lives together, but I would hardly call this living. Would you?"

"I'm not sure." She answered pensively,"I don't know that I was exactly living whilst I was a fugitive."

"Right, so then what are we doing here?"

"Yero, we didn't leave Oz thinking that our lives would suddenly become some kind of fairytale. We're not being hunted down, and that's good enough for me. They'll let us out...eventfully, and until then I say we cooperate. I'm tired of making enemies."

"Cooperate?", the starkness of her words stunned him into repeating.

Fiyero couldn't help but let the ghost of a laugh escape at just how un-Elphaba this all sounded. He shifted his head to look at her properly. She'd gained weight, which was good because she'd been growing increasingly skeletal during their time in the desert. The bags under her eyes were gone too. They'd been there, hanging low under her eyes like purple hammocks ever since he saw her that day in the palace. In fact, they'd been there so long that Fiyero had started to accept them as a permanent feature of her face. But they were gone, now, and that was good. Still, a sickening sense of dread coursed through his body as soon as he looked at her. For the first time ever, she looked weak. Not physically weak anymore but mentally? And...listless? Was that the right word? Well, whatever it was, it was unsettling to say the least.

"Are you...Is it" He stumbled over his words, not wanting to upset her further."You're not...you."

"I _was_ the last time I checked." She laughed. But it was a hollow laugh, a laugh empty of any real emotion at all.

He had an intense erge to hug her, to hold her close until she felt better, but he had a feeling that she would only push him away.

 _Not like she didn't do that with everyone else in her life._

He crushed the thought just as quickly as it had appeared in his head. Suddenly he was aware that some part of him blamed _her_ for their situation; it was this realisation that made his body ache with guilt. Here she was, looking as fragile as he'd ever seen her, and he had the audacity to blame her for all of this?

"I'm sorry "

"For what?"

He wasn't sure that he had an answer, but tried his best to form one regardless.

"For being a horrible person. For not noticing that you're...that you're even more unhappy now than you were back in Oz."

"For Oz's sake, Fiyero! Will you leave it? I'm fine!"

He knew it was a lie, but he also knew better than to push her any more. She turned to face him, seeming strangely childlike as she fiddled with her fingers. Elphaba felt bad for snapping at him- he could tell.

She didn't look him in the eye as she spoke again.

"They still won't tell me anything about the Wizard."

"You told me that yesterday."

"Did I." She stated, turning towards the door.

He followed, towards the wood that shielded them from the prying eyes of the nurses and doctors outside. Fiyero was ready to leave when she paused with her hand hovering over the handle for a second, facing away from him, to say "I think I'm pregnant."

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 **Let me know what ya' think ;)**


	6. Father

**Ok, so I know my updates aren't exactly regular, but I'm trying my best I promise. Here's a nice long chapter for you :)**

 **Disclaimer: Wicked is not mine**

* * *

"Whereabouts in the the U.S. then?"

"Kansas. Born and raised." I grinned.

"And when did you leave? How old were you?"

"Early twenties, I think."

"And you said you have a daughter?"

The officer seemed frustrated when I didn't respond.

"You did say that, didn't you?"

"Yes. I did say that."

"Can you tell us anything about her? About your family?"

"Well I- I didn't really have a family."

"And your daughter?"

"I never met her until she was twenty one."

"Where is she now?"

I paused, unsure of what to say. I felt my throat shrivel closed, refusing to let out the words that I wanted, but I fought back with a cough and a quick sip of water.

"She's dead."

* * *

Elphaba looked down at her stomach, legs hanging over the side of her hospital bed. She wasn't showing yet, but she would soon. There wasn't really a question about it. She was pregnant; she was certain. Still, she clung blindly to the tiny possibility that maybe- just maybe- she was wrong.

Fiyero had been circling around the back of the room for the past hour, every now and then stopping to lean over the window sill. The nurse stood in the opposite corner, eying them both warily.

 _Tell her._

But she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud again, because then it was real, and this couldn't be real. No, Elphaba didn't say anything to the nurse, instead opting to walk up to Fiyero's side and grab his hand, eyes glued to the floor. Fiyero squeezed her hand a little tighter, noticing that the nurse was paying very close attention to them now.

"Reminds me of Shiz." Fiyero commented.

"How do you mean?"

"I- I don't know..."

Elphaba lifted her head to glance out the window. Most of the landscape was completely grey, with the exception of a few verdant hills that poked out in the distance.

"I don't see it." She announced.

"You looked up." Fiyero grinned in response, once her eyes finally met his.

Elphaba eyed him quizzically for a moment "What?"

"You were staring at the ground. You used to do that sometimes at Shiz."

"Oh."

"Do you ever miss it?" He almost regretted asking the question after twenty seconds without a response. Much to his relief, one finally came (albeit in the form of a few mumbled words).

"Sometimes. Do you?"

It was Fiyero's turn to pause. He hadn't thought about his own answer to his question. What he _did_ know was that Elphaba had been right: he was unhappy when he was at Shiz. But now he had Elphaba.

"No. I don't think I do."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the nurse biting her lip anxiously. She was transferring her weight from one foot to another so that she looked as though she was the branch of a Quadling tree in a storm. He turned back to Elphaba, who was gnawing at her own lip, and a thought occurred to him.

"You don't regret... coming with me, do you?"

"No. Why? Do you?" Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke. This time he really _did_ regret his question, because now Elphaba was scared.

"No, of course not!", he answered hurriedly in an attempt to salvage the situation, " I just wanted to make sure that you..." He felt his voice trail off before he could finish the sentence. He turned back to the window, only to hear a short whine from behind him.

"I'll call a doctor." The nurse squeaked, pressing a button on the wall beside one of the beds. It was only at this point that Fiyero noticed the splash of beige on the floor by Elphaba's feet.

* * *

It was the scowling doctor who arrived around a minute later, shortly followed by a man who cleaned up the mess by the window, and promptly left the room. After a brief check over Elphaba, the doctor too turned to leave, but was stopped by a female voice.

"Doctor Michelle-"

"Doctor Jones." She corrected through gritted teeth.

"Doctor Jones, I've- been meaning to talk to you." Elphaba continued, growing increasingly hesitant as she spoke.

"Go on then." Doctor Jones sighed, turning back to Elphaba.

"I was just wondering where Fiyero and I will go. After we're discharged."

"We don't know. That's why you're still here." She replied bluntly, now standing right over the bed that Elphaba was sat on.

"Of course, I know that, but you must have some idea. I saw you talking to the police earlier, so I thought-"

"Look, none of you have been giving straight answers to the police." She snapped, "Until you do, no one can decide where you'll go."

"None of us."

"Pardon?"

"It's just you said 'none of you'... You mean the other man too- the man from the newspaper."

"Wow you really are-" She cut herself off with by clearing her throat before continuing with a strained voice that clearly wanted to become a yell. "As you've already been told, we can't give out information about patients to just anyone."

"I know...him. Talk to him, please."

* * *

"I've spoken to your father. He wanted to give you this." Doctor Jones announced after bursting through the doors of the hospital room that afternoon. She held a small piece of paper in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

"My _father_? " Elphaba felt her stomach twist itself into knots. Her father was here? Well, she'd never found out _how_ exactly he'd died (after all, 'shame' wouldn't suffice as a cause of death on any official document). It was entirely possible that he hadn't died at all and was here instead.

"Did you not just ask for me to speak to him?"

"He's not my _father_!" The words came out in an anxious laugh, something that took Elphaba _herself_ by surprise.

"Right. Well he asked me to give you this." Doctor Jones responded, placing the small piece of thick cream paper on the bed side table.

The paper was folded and bent at the edges, and covered in several brown smudges. Clearly it had been held a lot. Elphaba lifted it gingerly into her hand and turned it over.

She froze.

"Elphaba, what's wrong?"

It was Fiyero's voice calling out from the other side of the room. Only, he could just as easily have been right beside her, or sat on top of one of the hills the two had seen through the window. Her whole body was pulsating in some sort of fervent storm.

 _Stop it. Stop it. You idiot!_

But she couldn't stop it. Already, she could feel it. Feel the pressure building up. Feel it coursing through her until, suddenly, she felt nothing at all.

* * *

 **Thoughts? I found this chapter really hard to write, and I'm really not sure if Elphaba or Fiyero are in character, so I'd appreciate opinions and constructive criticism :)**


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